Cobwebs
by Schuyler Lola
Summary: With one simple movement, the cobwebs of what they used to be blow away. JavaJunkie.


**Disclaimer:** Puh-lease. Don't even think that I own the girls.

I have returned from the dead, my JavaJunkie friends! Since I haven't written anything really LL centred in….almost two months. Wow. Ouch. So, my gift to you all, a message that I'm still here.

This picks up after Partings – I haven't done anything Partings directly related yet – and goes right through to Bon Voyage. It has JavaJunkie overtones, definitely, but is really more of a character study of Lorelai during this time.

Enjoy. Feedback is welcomed with open arms.

Cobwebs

_In the end, it doesn't even matter._

I.

She's hiding again. She's concealing herself the best way she knows how – to go where she has to and be quiet as she does so. She buys enough coffee for the staff of a school. She learns to make her own fries – actually slicing the potatoes herself.

She could be proud of herself, if she isn't so miserable. She's an idiot, she knows. The knowledge makes her cry at the oddest times. She sobbed in the middle of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory," and she's eating more ice cream than ever.

She's come to associate it with sadness.

Looking in the mirror, she sees a sad, aging woman. She's never thought of herself as old, but that's what she sees. She tries to smile. The faint lines at the corners of her eyes seem to stand out more than ever. She feels old. She feels lonely.

It's her fault.

The next day, when she's walking to work because she can't bring herself to go get gas – Miss Patty has taken to hanging out there; the new attendant is her victim – she sees Luke in the diner. Talking to April. April is laughing.

She feels a burning in her chest. She can feel her air being cut off – she's gasping for breath – and she stares hungrily.

She can stare because she's hiding. Hiding in the middle of the town square, in plain sight, but hiding all the same. Her dark clothes make her invisible.

She presses a hand to her mouth, trying not to let out a cry. It seems like he's fine.

And she's not.

But it is her fault.

II.

"Hey, sweetie," Sookie says, over-brightly, as she drags herself into work.

"Hey," she replies. She leans on the counter, holding her head in her hands.

"You want some coffee?" Sookie asks.

She feels like she's being handled with kid gloves. "No," she mumbles. "I'm fine."

Sookie nods. She starts chopping again. "Are you sure?"

"I think there's something wrong with me," she says, finally. "I mean other than the usual things."

"No, there's not," Sookie argues.

Lorelai reaches for the coffeepot. A fresh wave of guilt swallows her whole.

She doesn't want coffee anymore.

III.

She sits on the couch, wallowing. She's been wallowing for days. Days that have turned into weeks, in her mind. She's still dazed. Even now, she's foggy.

Rory flies onto the couch, putting her feet on Lorelai's lap. "Hey, Mom."

"Are you going back to school?" she asks.

"Yeah," Rory says. "I can stay…"

"No, you don't need to stay," she says, firmly. Weeks have gone by and she still can't pretend. She needs to learn to again.

She needs to learn a lot of stuff again. "Go, have fun, go to all the last first week parties you'll have," she says. This time, she can fake it better.

"Okay," Rory says, slowly. She hugs her mother.

Lorelai wraps her arms around Rory's neck, feeling the precious weight.

"Love you," Rory whispers, before straightening up. She gives her a sad smile, and Lorelai slumps.

She kind of hates herself now, and she can't really bring herself to feel loved.

IV.

So she finds herself in a car, watching a movie on the side of a barn with Chris. It's romantic, deeply so – no one's ever done anything like that for her. Ever. She sighs, and leans into him closer, but it's reflex.

She's chilled.

She pulls at the sleeves of her sweater and curls her hands up underneath the fabric. Chris kisses her cheek.

It's nice, she thinks. Not spectacular, not fun, not something she'll remember with fondness. Just nice.

V.

She can't bring herself to look in the mirror now. She's afraid she'll see that miserable, middle-aged woman, but she's also afraid she'll have to confront herself.

She's afraid to look at the ring. She rubs the band, but keeps staring forward.

Stupid.

Eloping in Paris – isn't that romantic? Something that happens to people truly in love and want such a great start. Something that happens to people that aren't her.

She closes her eyes.

"Lor?" Chris calls, banging her front door.

She opens her eyes. For a minute, she had been able to pretend she was waiting for someone else.

VI.

She runs to the hospital. Luke, April…hospital…she can't see that as being a good idea and she's overwhelmed with fear for this girl she hardly even knows. She argues that if Luke heard that Rory was in the hospital, then he would rush, too. That's what friends do, they look out for each other.

They're not friends. Who's she trying to kid?

She's never really been able to define their relationship. They went from guy-who-pours-coffee and girl-who-buys-coffee to best friends at some point. She still can't pin it down to any specific time, but she remembers the day when she felt she could tell him anything.

She skips over the next couple chapters.

Now they're…

She doesn't know.

But it doesn't matter, because she rushes in the hospital, her Luke radar up, and is drawn to him. He's there. Luke. _Her_ Luke.

Her heart stops. He's not her Luke.

He sees the ring on her finger, and she feels the ever-present tears come up again, because she thought she had done all she could to hurt him, but she's done it again. He stares at the gold band. She wants to take it off and throw it away.

She doesn't think she can erase the look on his face. Even if she wants to.

VII.

A character reference. A character reference for Luke. Does he know how hard this is for her? Does he know that she can't do this?

She taps the pen on the paper. A furry nose pokes her leg. "Hey, Paul Anka," she says. "Do you have any ideas?"

He looks at her like he always does, mournfully. "I thought so," she tells him, rubbing his back. "You don't have any special memories of Luke. Other than he saved your life, and gave you leftover bacon and paid attention to you and catered to your nuttiness…" She sighs. "I miss him, too."

She leaves Paul Anka in the kitchen, and runs upstairs. She flops on the bed, spreading her arms out. She hears her notepad hit the floor, and she sighs. She's got to come up with something soon.

She curls up on the bed, slumping low on her pillow. She twists the pen in her hand. Writer's block, right? She needs Rory for this, but that might be cheating. Rory is the writer. Lorelai is not. But she needs to do this herself.

Can you even cheat here? She's stumped on that point, because Luke had to have known she would say nothing but nice things about him.

Or she would if she could write something.

She brings the pen down to the paper and…lets go. Her hand is jumping ahead of her mind, and she's not even sure what she's writing, but it feels _right_, so she keeps going.

She stops and looks at her page.

_Once Luke Danes is in your life, he's in your life forever._

She sighs. Yeah, if she would just let him.

VIII.

She knew this was coming. She felt it, she lived it. Now she said it.

She wonders how much she wanted to love Chris, how much she wanted to make this work. But she can't, so she's out…and she feels free. She's becoming another nearly forty divorcee, but she doesn't care.

She's crying, the tears blurring her view of him, but she doesn't feel sad. She feels like she should feel sad. "I'm so sorry," she chokes out.

"I know," he mutters.

She looks at her lap, staring at the loosely laced fingers there. She _is_ sorry, she knows that much.

But now she can stop looking for what's missing in all the wrong places.

IX.

He did it! Her heart is sore, because Rory's going away, but this…this party…Luke did it. He planned it out, he set it up, he got everyone in on it.

She's running to find him now, she can't just let it go, she needs to find him. She makes a beeline for the diner.

He's coming out, carrying a bag of something. _Luke_. She slows her walk, suddenly finding it hard to bridge the gap between them. He stops, staring at her.

"Luke," she breaths.

"I just like to see you happy," he replies.

And then they're kissing, and she's happier than he strove for.

With a simple movement, the cobwebs of what they used to be blow away. "I love you," she whispers.

"I love you, too," he murmurs back, and she smiles, because this is how it's supposed to be.


End file.
